


With The Queen

by gayalondiel



Series: watsons_woes July 2011 challenge [11]
Category: Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Fluff, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-28
Updated: 2011-07-28
Packaged: 2017-10-21 21:41:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 549
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/230133
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gayalondiel/pseuds/gayalondiel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wiggins brings Watson a patient or two...</p>
            </blockquote>





	With The Queen

**Author's Note:**

> watsons_woes LJ community posted a daily prompt challenge for July 2011 wherein you had to respond within 24 hours. These are my responses, so they are a little hasty and unpolished. Also damned weird.
> 
> July 11: Kitten
> 
>  **Disclaimer:** The Holmes characters fall in the public domain and are the creation of the wonderful Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. No ownership is implied or inferred. This is done for love only.

“There we go.” Watson passed the alcohol swab over the wound once more, covering the whole space where the fur had been clipped back to expose the cut. It was a long and jagged wound, torn a little at the edges, but not deep. He put down the cloth and then reached out a hand and scratched the top of the cat’s head, between its ears, and it stretched its neck and pushed into the contact.

“Thanks ever so much, doctor,” said Wiggins, hovering anxiously on the other side of the makeshift operating table. Watson beckoned him over and he dug a grubby hand into the long gingery fur and tugged it gently.

“The wound should heal,” said Watson. “I would like to stitch it but he will not tolerate it, and I do not wish to experiment with anaesthetic doses. Nor do you, Holmes!” he added sharply with a glance across the room to waylay the expected suggestion. “There is a chance of infection, though. I don’t have anything suitable myself, and I doubt if we will be able to find a veterinary surgeon who will see him.”

“I have a contact at the royal college,” said Holmes from his position by the window. He was smoking idly and watching them with an amused smile. “If it were not for the late hour, I would have summoned him.”

“You had no compunctions in summoning me,” commented Watson.

“From upstairs, dear boy?”

“After two days with no sleep, Holmes, yes.”

“Mr Holmes said she could stay here, just until she’s feeling a bit better.”

“Did he, now?” Watson glared at his friend. “I don’t imagine you cleared it with Mrs Hudson, a filthy infested creature coming to live in the house?”

“She’s not filthy and infested!” protested Wiggins. “She just needs a good meal and a good wash is all. I’m sure Mrs Hudson won’t mind.”

“I can’t say I share your confidence,” said Watson. “But very well, we will dare her disapproval. Wiggins...” He paused, a thought striking him suddenly. “You keep saying “she”.

“Of course!”

“It has the colouring of a male, and thick enough fur that I cannot sex it until it settles more. How do you know it’s a female?”

Wiggins gaped at him for a moment and then turned to look at Holmes. Watson followed his gaze and noticed what he had failed to observe before: Holmes’ bag at his feet. His brown, leather, capacious travelling bag. Suspicions fully formed, Watson left the cat with Wiggins and went to open the bag. He unbuckled the clasp and pulled the handles apart; and was met by five pairs of brilliant, tiny blue eyes in a large mound of red tabby fur. Definitely a female, then.

Watson glanced up at Holmes, sighed, and knelt gently by the bag. “I suppose we’re keeping these, too, are we?”

“They belong with the queen,” said Holmes simply. “Can’t be helped, dear boy.”

Watson reached carefully into the bag. One tiny pair of jaws opened to give the smallest, most adorable hiss he had ever heard, and then the kitten allowed him to pick it up and nestled gently into the curve of his palm, looking around curiously. He felt his resolve melt.

“No,” he agreed. “It can’t be helped.”


End file.
